


Spider Meet Fly

by CreamcheeseBagel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Deadpool References, Depressed Loki (Marvel), Fluff and Angst, Good Peter, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loki & Thor Friendship (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Redemption, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter is a Little Shit, Tony Stark Has A Heart, teenage loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18648805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreamcheeseBagel/pseuds/CreamcheeseBagel
Summary: Oh mac and cheese! A typical patrol gets cosmically screwed when Peter comes across The God of Mischief in an empty skate park.Loki; political prisoner, alien assimilation 0.2, freeloader of The Avengers Tower,Peter Parker's new friend?With his magic hobbled, there is little escape from Peter Parker and his never ending questions.---'‘I’m not a child,’ Peter groaned. He shook his head dramatically. ‘I’m Spiderman. Emphasis on the man’ he sighed. Loki didn’t need to know a sixteen year old had just ripped his arm out of its socket, he reasoned. ‘And as a man, and uh Avenger- I Spiderman declare that you must go home!’. He puffed his chest out as Loki twisted his arm back into his frame will a roll of his eyes.'---Takes place after The Avengers (2012)- mixing aspects of Civil War without the fallout.





	1. He was a skater boy.

**Author's Note:**

> Forget timelines, it's a mixed bag because I miss the Avengers. 
> 
> Takes place years after Loki's attack on New York, however the original Avengers group are still fighting side by side. Peter has also appeared on their radar sooner and is trying to become apart of the family. 
> 
> May include relationships from Civil War, without having to address the fallout, and Endgame. However there will be no spoilers.

Peter relaxed upon the rooftop, his gloved hands pulling apart a hastily made, and now quite cold, taco. He felt sweaty and content; three foiled muggings could do that to a man, well Spiderman that was. He preened into the cool evening air and took a hearty bite from the gifted food, his stomach growling in appreciation. His mouth delightfully worked around the mass of vegetables and mince, his hidden ears twitching against the ghosts of laughter and excited shrieks. It was the surreal moments like this, a content bubble, within his hectic life that truly tugged at his heartstrings.

He absentmindedly licked an escaped chunk of guacamole from his sleeve when his stomach lurched. White noise thrummed throughout his body, the hairs on his nape standing to attention; being Spiderman could also ruin a good meal for you.

Never the litterbug, Peter rewrapped the partially eaten food in the tinfoil and set it atop his backpack. He webbed his possessions to the roof before he tugged down his mask and followed the vibrations.

He leapt from the rooftop in one fluid tumble, a fan of webs taking him across the neighbourhood. It was like playing a game of ‘hot or cold’ with his spidey-senses, and he only stopped when the headache began to prick behind his eyes.

He flipped into an open, and very empty, skate park. Spying no one, no evil space ship or masked villain, Peter scaled a tall ramp and peered over the railing. It wasn’t like he’d been wrong before, but usually his spidey-senses paid off.

It was only when he had ducked down to flick a piece of salsa from his knee that his mind tumbled violently. He stumbled backwards, hands against his ears, yelping as he slid down the ramp. Footsteps followed his descent.

Feeling his cheeks flush Peter hastily propped himself up, a loose finger gun pointing at the stranger.

‘What’s up? Great night for a skate!’ Peter coughed out, straining to keep his voice low. He felt stupid for having rushed away from a meal to scare a homeless man.

The stranger glanced Peter up and down nonchantly. Only twin glints of green moved against the pale figure, his eyes narrowing. Peter scrambled to his feet yet the stranger remained still, his stare calculated.

‘Have you seen my skateboard by any chance?’ Peter pressed, skipping off the ramp and invading the taller man’s space. The aura greeting Peter was really ruining his vibe.

‘You’re not an Avenger,’ the man responded sharply, a scathing observation.

Peter resisted the urge to dramatically swoon or clutch his chest. He had the feeling that it would be lost on Mr Serious Homeless Man. Before he could think of a retort the man had already begun to stride away, pale hands clasped behind his back.

‘Excuse me!’ shouted Peter, having found his voice. He skipped in front of the lightly armoured man. ‘But _ouch_ ’, he whined stabbing an annoyed finger against a golden breastplate. ‘Wait, rewind. Why are you wearing armour?’.

‘Needs must,’ the clipped response irked Peter more, something that was usually near on impossible to do. ‘Now. Move’. The words had barely left the man’s lips before Peter had blocked the sweeping arm. His right hand clamped around the bony wrist, his left attempted to swallow the larger palm.

‘Big hands,’ he breathed, forcing the man’s hand into a tight fist. The stranger’s eyes became slits and the hairs across Peter’s body danced. ‘Bigger heart?’ he tried, squeaking as his hand grew warmer and his own fist appeared to glow green.

Peter leapt backwards, waved his still attached hands before his eyes, and dropped into a steady crouch.

‘Wait…’ realisation trickled down Peter’s spine and cooled. ‘I know you! You’re not a hobo. Well..I mean I’ve seen like news reports and stuff. And now you’re here- and oh my gosh! You’re here!’.

The one and only Loki cut his face with a smile; an animalistic grin full of teeth. He bowed, dark hair tumbling over his shoulders.

‘I need not know your name,’ Loki quipped, twisting Peter’s insides. He stepped forwards slowly, daring Peter to act.

‘Oh mac and cheese!’ Peter blurted out, shocking the both of them with his actions. He rocked backwards on his heels and launched himself forwards without a second thought. Loki scoffed and punched a fist out, intending to stop the nuisance head on.  
However, Peter was quick and lithe. He snaked himself around the leather clad arm, his feet sitting quite snugly against Loki’s upper shoulder.

‘Get off,’ Loki snapped, his free hand striking Peter unapologetically. But Peter clung on for dear life, screaming in fear behind his mask. ‘Stop screaming in my face you disgusting-‘.

 _POP._ The fire encasing Peter’s head became a small patter. A noise akin to popping a bag of crisps swallowed the world.

Peter hit the floor and rolled, bouncing easily to his feet. He wiggled his fingers and his toes. His body obeyed him fluently.

‘Oh no…’ he choked, blinking wildly up at the God. ‘I-I only meant to stop you leaving!’ he begged guiltily.

Loki met his gaze shakily. His left arm dangled loose and Peter wished the ground would swallow him whole.

‘But you are not an Avenger,’ Loki hissed, ‘how can a child like you wield such strength?’.

‘I’m not a child,’ Peter groaned. He shook his head dramatically. ‘I’m Spiderman. Emphasis on the _man_ ’ he sighed. Loki didn’t need to know a sixteen year old had just ripped his arm out of its socket, he reasoned. ‘And as a man, and uh Avenger- I Spiderman declare that you must go home!’. He puffed his chest out as Loki twisted his arm back into his frame will a roll of his eyes.

‘Another mighty spider,’ Loki purred running a finger across his shoulder joint. ‘However you have not been briefed. How idiotic of Stark not to tell you’. Peter bristled. ‘I have a meeting to keep. Call it probation, or sharing knowledge if you will. I don’t wish to upset Stark further in stamping out his insect’.

‘What do _you_ want with Mr Stark?’ Peter demanded, throwing a volley of webbing at the threat. Loki’s fingers sliced through the batch, his eyes expertly following Peter as he leapt from ramp to ramp.

‘As interesting as this could be, Spiderman. I have little energy to spare teasing you‘.

‘You’re the one sending bad vibes across the city!’.

‘Pardon?’

‘Wait!’ Peter shouted, dropping behind Loki with only a small tremor. ‘I found my skateboard!’

Loki turned on his heel, ‘excuse me-‘.

 _Crack._ The cheap skateboard became splinters around Loki’s head.

Loki fell to a knee, his upper torso dusted with skateboard. He huffed towards the concrete, closing his eyes as he caught his breath.

‘I- hope you charge Stark- for a new skateboard,’ Loki panted, tilting his chin upwards and fixing Peter with a cold stare, his eyes dark. Peter swallowed the desire to pull the God to his feet, dust him off, and apologise profusely. ‘Upon the memory of my Mother, I promise to you, Spiderman. I am here, on Midgard, to see both Stark and Odinson. If I weren’t I _would_ retalitate’.

Peter rocked on his heels and urged the taco to not make an appearance. Vomiting on a God’s shoes, or expensive leather boots, would be the highlight to a very weird night. _Or maybe my last night._

Loki unfolded his body with a small groan, unsuspecting that Peter could infact hear everything from the creak of his leather trousers to his sharp exhale. Despite his cheeks paling, Loki towered above Peter with a firm scowl. His naked annoyance reminded Peter sharply of Mr Barnes on a bad day.

‘I’m sorry!’ Peter squeaked, ducking an imaginary fist. Loki remained passive however, his shoulders slumping. ‘Oh…thought you were gonna try hit me again. Um, so truce?’.

A muscle worked hard in the Gods jaw, Peter could see it shifting slowly beneath the skin. Translucent skin pulled taught when Loki angled his head to the sky. His eyes seemed too large for his face. For the first time in the quick succession of events, Peter’s stomach began to settle slowly.

‘Get me to Stark,’ Loki commanded his voice, the words came hard and lilted. His tired eyes held Peter’s mask, the hidden worrying of a lip. ‘I’ve had a long journey’.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Peter shuffled awkwardly within the close confines of the lift. The music was obnoxious and boppy, working against his frayed nerves. He wrung his gloved hands until a quiet huff stopped him. He could feel Loki’s curious gaze, knew instinctively that if he turned it would be well concealed.

‘All inhabitants are aware of your return, Mr Odinson,’ JARVIS announced before the doors slid open. Peter could have sworn the AI almost sounded pleased with itself.

Peter caught the unmistakeable crunch of a clenched fist as he stepped from the box and into the lavish lounge before him. He breathed in heavily, pushing the grandeur to the back of his mind.

‘Loki, if it isn’t my least favourite Asgardian! You’re lucky we didn’t send Cap out to find you,’ Tony shouted. He appeared from an adjacent hall, his hands already working a wine glass from a passing cabinet. ‘Thor’s flying back from Mexico tomorrow, so- WHAT THE FUCK!’.

Peter flinched away, allowing Loki to glide through the lounge to stand quietly before Tony.

‘I see you!’ Stark snapped gruffly, storming away from the God. ‘You’ve got ten seconds to explain yourself young man!’.

‘So you are a child.’ Loki looked like the cat who’d got the cream. ‘I shall be in Thor’s room,’ he added with a wry smirk before disappearing with tremendous speed down the stretch of hallway Tony had sprung from.

‘JARVIS, re-apply 0D4 restrictions throughout, please. We’re also going to have a word later’.

‘Of course, Sir’.

‘Full body scans?’ Tony continued, seemingly at ease with Loki having strolled through his home.

‘Mr- my apologies, Spiderman is unharmed, Sir. Mr Odinson appears to have a minor abrasion to the hairline, and acute exhaustion. Readings indicate that the latter was to be expected, however’.

Tony nodded, turning to share an exasperated shrug with Peter.

‘Peter…,’ Tony sounded exhausted.

Peter shuffled his feet awkwardly, tugging his mask free now that the two were alone. His hair stuck to his head messily, greasy with dried sweat.

‘Was on patrol…,’ he started feeling sheepish.

‘I’m going to start by saying I’m not angry. Hey kiddo, not angry here. You weren’t meant to know about Loki...only the Avenger’s – I mean, it was classified information. Only angry eyepatch and select few were meant to know’.

‘I’m sorry,’ Peter whispered wholeheartedly. He felt his knees go weak. ‘I was only on patrol, I swear. I really didn’t mean to find him. Mr Stark, I promise. I swear I was being safe! Please’.

‘Hey, kid, it’s fine. You’re okay,’ Tony smiled and pressed a wine glass into his shaking hands. ‘Oh shit, nooope!’ he just as quickly plucked the glass away.

‘Think I might need a stiff drink after tonight’.

‘Cute,’ laughed Tony, clapping Peter’s shoulder. ‘Totally honesty here’, he continued, his eyebrows scrunched with the effort of searching for the right words. ‘It was agreed. Annoyingly mind you. That antlers back there was to spend the remainder of his sentence on Earth. You should have seen Fury’s face!’. Peter sunk onto a near barstool. ‘Anyway, apparently daddy dearest had a few other ideas. And the- uh, bastard is now Earth’s problem. I overlooked their GPS system apparently, so that’s on me’.

Peter couldn’t stop the gasp. He clamped a hand to his face, the textured fabric still damp.

‘No welcome party, obviously. It would have been Hell if people saw the Avengers collecting him from the bus stop. But he was supposed to land on my doorstep…’.

‘He was in a skate park. Uh. Took me a little while to get there’.

Tony rolled the wine glass in his hands. ‘I’m glad you’re safe, kid. If he wasn’t restricted I swear I would have been there to get him’.

‘What do you mean, Mr Stark?’

‘The less you know, the better,’ Stark sighed, looking past Peter to the liquor cabinet calling him. ‘He’s going to be here a while so I’d rather you kept away-‘

Peter spluttered on air, his chest constricting.

‘Mr Stark!’ Peter gasped, his voice an octave higher than he would have appreciated. ‘He can’t hurt me!’.

‘Did he _try_ to hurt you?’ Tony’s expression grew dark. Frown lines became deep grooves.

‘Everything happened so quick. No though. I, uh. Well. Nope!’ Peter eventually got the tangle of words out, and only felt ninety percent guilty about being dishonest.

Tony quirked a brow but allowed the falsehood to linger for a moment before he replied. ‘I understand you’ve seen a lot for a kid. Hell, I’ve seen some of those freaks you seem to fight weekly. But Loki is out of your league. I really appreciate you getting him here before…anyway…’ he scrubbed at his face. ‘Let me look after you, Pete. Promise me you’ll be smart. Stay away as much as you can’.

Peter felt his stomach sink. He nodded slowly, he would honestly do his best to behave even if it meant staying away from his extended family.

Tony moved around Peter and into the even more ridiculously open planned kitchen. Without a word he fished a number of dishes from a hidden oven and presented them with a flourish, his hands wrapped in identical Iron Man tea-towels.

‘No one wanted to have dinner with me, despite a murderer sleeping in the same house as me,’ Tony explained as Peter moved from a stool and sat at an insanely long glass table. The length of which boasted more room than both his bedroom and his Aunt May’s tripled. ‘None of them are invited to my funeral’.

Peter accepted the cutlery and dove into the pasta dish closest to himself, smiling apologetically around a mouthful of leek and bacon.

‘Ruh not scared?’ Peter asked around a second serving.

Tony pushed his own food around his plate, spearing a shrivelled piece of spinach. ‘No,’ Tony said with a too cheerful smile. ‘There’s enough safe-guards here to keep Loki in check. Thor will be here tomorrow morning as well. So I’ve only really got to be worried about those two killing each other’.

‘I am sorry, again. No one else was meant to know’.

Placing his heaped fork down, Peter shook his head energetically. ‘You know me, Mr Stark! I’m so nosey I would have probably found out at some point anyway. It was scary at first, but you seem so…composed, and I trust you’.

‘We’ll talk more tomorrow. I expect all five of those plates to be eaten, young man,’ Tony teased with an affectionate smile. ‘I’d be stupid to think you would just waltz home after tonight’.

Peter blinked back owlishly.

‘I’m not having you attempt to hack JARVIS. So, some ground rules. One, stay in your room and don’t go anywhere near mine. Two, in the morning I expect you to get ready and go to school. Three, I know your Aunt May is away at the moment but you really have to stay home when I tell you to, okay?’.

‘One hundred percent, Mr Stark’.

‘You’re a good kid’.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Loki paced the bedroom erratically, standing stock still for minutes before tearing across the room. He couldn’t summon any true anger as he settled into standing like a statue once again. He’d had years of screaming, bellowing, raking his nails into bloody stubs, upon Asgard. He’d screamed himself hoarse, spit lost in cracked lips, until Odin had become silent, and somehow the silence had stretched the expanse of Loki’s weary bones and mellowed into his limbs.  
His Mother would sneak to him often, soothing his chaotic thoughts. Thor had too attempted to chip away at Loki’s animosity but he too had fallen into a grave silence. Two Earth years had gone, while his own voyage of time had crawled further still. He shied from the remembered punishments; his families silence followed him, Thanos haunted him.

Loki had often wished that Odin had cut him down, felled the twisted monster. Now he begrudgingly shouldered the man’s misguided affection, and attempts at humility, quietened his own mind to the easily found malice lest he become a puppet once again.

Spiderman, the child who had accosted him, had given Loki much thought as he had paced the grey carpet. His head no longer hurt, but the young man was an interesting mortal to have actually inflicted such an imaginative strike. He wished to spar with him un-hobbled.

Unsure if the AI system was spying, and uncaring, Loki threw himself backwards upon Thor’s bed. He could smell his brother in the pillows only; a strong earthy scent, pulling him back to the clashing of weapons, a lingering of damp skies and well-trod roads when the sun dare peek again through the clouds.  
He had not been allowed presence in the throne room when Thor had challenged Odin, but he knew that the oaf had best his Father in a battle of tongues for Loki to be trapped upon Earth, limited in his abilities, alive.

Loki traced a finger up the sleeve of his left arm and began to scratch.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter was half way through his second bowl of cereal when Tony padded into the kitchen, a heavy wave; he stopped immediately, pulling a pair of designer shades over his dark eyes.

‘JARVIS, is Peter in my kitchen right now…or am I drunk?’

‘Surprisingly sober, Sir’.

Tony collapsed into an adjacent seat, dragging the box of cereal towards himself and munching on a few dry handfuls of the off-brand chocolate treat.

‘Ugh. Steve is so frugal! Keeps buying this disgusting off brand crap’. Peter nodded mutely, already reaching for a third bowl. ‘Oh sorry. Don’t listen to me. Most people don’t’. Peter waved the comments away, far from insulted. Infact he felt content to sit across from Tony Stark, sharing cheap cereal and small talk.

‘Aren’t you teenagers meant to be in school by- ah shit, it’s ten already. I’ll have Happy drive you, no problem’.

‘Oh, I called in sick, Mr Stark,’ Peter shoved another spoonful into his mouth, carefully avoiding Tony’s attempt at a stern look. ‘Ned’s gonna cover my notes, no biggie’.

Tony shrugged, pinching the spoon from Peter this time and forcing it down with a cringe.

‘Right that’s breakfast done. JARVIS, update on gloom and doom?’.

Peter gently retrieved the spoon and finished the third bowl with a satisfied smile. He often didn’t get enough to eat and felt guilty when Aunt May flew through her pay checks to support them both.

‘Mr Odinson is awake, Sir. Would you like me to open the door?’.

‘Page Steve would ya? Only America’s arse can save us if things go sour’.

Within a handful of minutes Steve had joined the pair in the lounge, sporting a casual gym attire and his trademark shield strapped to his arm. Peter had leapt from his seat immediately and Steve had politely let Peter take the shield from him.

‘Door unlocked, Sir. Mr Odinson has been instructed to join you,’ JARVIS announced. Tony took a steadying breathe. Steve crossed his arm, his face impassive as he stared hard at the hallway.

Loki appeared like a predator through the grass, eyes twinkling, mouth twisted into a smile.

‘DUCK!’ Peter screamed.

Tony hit the deck. Peter cursed himself from leaving his web shooters in the bedroom. Steve ducked his own hurtling shield; Loki’s eyes went wide, his hands splayed. His fingers glowed green before abruptly falling.

The shield whistled through the room. Loki dived away with a wince. The shield hit the wall with a resounding thud, firmly lodged.

‘Peter!’ Steve and Tony shouted in unison, Tony dashing to grab his student and Steve leaping to retrieve the probable weapon.

‘I’m so sorry! I t-tripped,’ Peter stumbled over his words as Loki rose on unsteady feet. A single slash worked its way across his right cheekbone like a cavern. The wound wept. ‘O-oh my God. I’ve killed Loki! Oh my God-‘.

Steve firmly planted himself before Loki. ‘Quite the arm there, Peter’ Steve laughed nudging Loki away with the shield. ‘Will take more than that to get rid of this one’.

Loki touched the slash gingerly, unused to his skin not weaving together almost instantly. He pinched the wound closed. The teenager stared unblinking at him.

‘And you’re certain you don’t know me?’ Loki hissed, pushing hard against the shield. He curled his fingers around the lip, lacking the strength to rip it away. ‘It seems you want to’.

‘Reign it in!’ barked Steve tapping the shield to Loki’s clothed chest. Loki sneered at the super-soldier before nodding stiffly. It would do no good to have his nose broken if he couldn’t even heal it.

‘Another outburst, Horns. Then we’ll see who’s laughing,’ Tony shot back, nanotechnology crawling back under his shirt sleeve. ‘Touch a hair on the kids head and you’re gone’.

‘I have yet to actually _harm_ the child’.

Peter flinched backwards aware that Loki had now seen Spiderman without the mask. He watched the green eyes narrow amused and grow wide, searching. Loki seemed to retract backwards into the loose shirt. He took a step back, eyes glued on the glass windows. Blue eyes blinked back.

Tony snatched Peter and leapt over a sofa, forcing his head down.

‘Head down!’ Tony shouted over a thousand shards of glass raining from the heavens. ‘Don’t break the coffee machine this time!’ he shouted over the top.

The carpet rumbled beneath Peter’s bare feet and he couldn’t help but peek. Tony had moved, forming a two man squad with Steve before Loki. Peter took the opportunity to stare wide eyed, fascinated, as the almighty Thor swept through the obliterated windows.  
Golden hair flowed around Thor. Peter could taste the static that kept it aloft on his tongue.

‘Stand down, Thor. We had an agreement. We’ve kept our side’.

Peter watched Steve shout at his comrade, saw Tony’s suit race up his own arms to face down his comrade also.

‘You may keep him here, but he must know that I am serious,’ Thor roared effortlessly brushing the men aside. ‘It was no easy feat convincing Father to let you return, brother. What have you to say?’.

Loki licked his lips and spat at Thor’s feet. ‘Fuck you for keeping me alive’.

Peter thought he’d ruin his pyjamas as Thor reached forwards, clasping Loki’s neck. But instead of the conjured outcomes, Thor pressed his forehead to Loki’s own. The God’s closed their eyes in unison, leaning into one another. Loki broke the contact and nodded stiffly, a mute conversation passing between them.

‘He wishes no harm. I see that,’ Thor chuckled, slamming a heavy hand upon his brother’s back and pulling him into his side.

‘For fucks sake, Thor! Couldn’t have used the lift to work that one out?’ Tony shouted, crouched behind Steve. ‘If you’re going to fight, take it outside’.

‘Tony, Steve, we have much to catch up on!’ steamrolled Thor. ‘Young Peter it is great to see you again. Please watch Loki whilst we discuss specifics’.

‘Excuse me?’ Peter gulped, leaping over the sofa. ‘Is that safe?’.

‘He can’t harm you, truly. Anyway it’s about time he spent some real time on Earth,’ Thor replied, squeezing Loki tighter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘Soooo,’ Peter broke the silence, Loki sat rigidly on the opposite sofa. If looks could kill, Peter was damned sure to keep the man away from any mirrors. ‘Tony has Netflix…we can have some ice-cream and watch Star Wars or something? I mean it’s really cool and I think- um, you might like it. I don’t know. What do Norse Gods enjoy?’.

Loki ignored the friendly attempt at conversation and studied the far wall.

‘Wanna see me climb up the wall?’ Peter tried again.

Loki quirked a brow, rolling his neck to fix his bored stare on Peter.

‘Watch this!’ Peter took the silence as not necessarily a no…he leapt to his feet, wiggled his hands and feet dramatically and launched himself skyward. Peter promptly stuck to the ceiling. He grinned down at Loki, his face bright red. ‘Cool huh!’.

‘I could once clone myself a hundred times over’.

Peter’s eyes blossomed into excited orbs as he dropped into a crouch. Loki moved backwards into the cushions, not enjoying the creeping curiosity to the teenagers smile.

Loki narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t even ask whatever is running through that primitive brain of yours. Illusions, or doubles, are not mere toys’.

‘Soo, you never?’

Loki slapped his hands to his face and groaned.

‘How about you ask me a question and then I ask you one?’ asked Peter with childish glee. He was practically thrumming with excitement. ‘I’ll start! How old are you?’.

Rolling his eyes, Loki threw an arm over his face and settled in for the long haul.

‘Our years do not calculate as yours do. If I have to answer such a frivolous question. I would say around eighteen Earth years, give or take’.

Peter felt his jaw fall open, appalled and fascinated.  

‘What do you want to cease this immediately? I’ll have Thor bring you riches, women. Whatever your sentimental heart desires…’.

‘Oh. I just uh felt bad about hurting you…and wanted to get to know you. Bad habit of mine. Like talking with bad guys, you know? Second chances and all that’.

Loki dropped his arm slowly, taking in the downhearted teenager not much younger than himself if you counted technicalities, and ignored experience. He felt nothing as he took stock of the stranger who could stick to ceilings and hit him with the force of Thor during his early years. But he neither cared for the Avengers to return and find the Spiderchild crying into the carpet.

‘Show me this Netflix’ Loki spoke, the slightest inflection hoping to cure the words of his usual domineering tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please don't hesitate to leave a comment/kudo. Or you can even leave a prompt for the next chapter if you're feeling brave.


	2. Wolf at the door.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned for upcoming violence and Peter being a really considerate/caring friend.

It had taken a tense and fraught ten months for the Avengers to agree to disagree. Clint had been the first to wound with intent. He fought dirty, relishing in the deepest bruises he gained and gave. He had managed to fracture two of Loki’s fingers and the God’s jaw before being wrenched free by Peter and Natasha. Thor had spoken with Clint out of ear-shot of even Peter, and the two had returned firm friends.

Clint had returned to his family shortly afterwards; Natasha would dip in and out of the tower as she pleased, only sharing the briefest of barbed quips and amused smirks with the newest resident.

None one could find Bruce and Loki was silently thankful.

It was Thor who had brought the biggest challenge of all. The brothers would be almost friendly at times, with Loki gingerly allowing a small touch or laughter among them. The uneasy truce never lasted long though with Loki often-spitting malice, unearthing animosity to weaponise, and screaming at Thor to hit him while both men cried freely; the pair hadn’t fought since a butter knife had ended up in Thor’s bicep and Loki was back-handed into a three day slumber.

After peering into the shallows of the complicated relationship, Peter had worked hard on blocking their hushed night-time conversations away from his prying ears. He’d cried the first time he’d heard Thor’s rumbling voice crack.

So Peter had taken the upheaval of peace in his stride; he expertly juggled his home and school life, patrolling while Aunt May worked or slept, and often snuck into the tower after school days. Tony had since given up sending Happy to chase Peter through the foyer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Peter knocked on the bedroom door sharply, JARVIS immediately unlocking the heavy inner mechanisms.

‘Breakfast- actually it’s more like dinner I guess. Yup, lasagna!’ Peter shouted unnecessarily, easily navigating to Thor’s obnoxiously large bed and planting himself into the mess of quilts and pillows.

Loki emerged from the en-suite, long fingers carding through the damp hair, and offered Peter a small smile.

‘Does Stark honestly expect me to eat that with a spoon?’ Loki asked as he pulled an over-sized jumper from a chest of drawers and wiggled into it. The jeans he already wore had been gifted from Steve after Thor had mercilessly teased his brother for wearing his own too large trousers, and Loki had looked ready to strangle him with the clothing.

‘You did stab Thor…’ Peter hummed, pulling the food apart with the spoon.

‘Touché,’ Loki smiled, plucking the tray away and stashing it in a shelving unit. ‘And I presume Stark said to stop bringing me these dinners, yes?’.

Peter flushed from the nest of pillows. ‘Well someone’s gotta make sure you eat’. Peter plucked at a pillow self-consciously. 'I know my metabolism is super crazy now- and like, you're from space and I've seen how much Thor eats. Mr Stark would go bananas if _I_ only ate breakfast!'.

Loki scoffed quietly, his hands working his long hair into a ponytail. He knew that every Avenger currently residing in the tower, Peter somehow also privy to this knowledge, knew his fixed routines: first was breakfast with Steve Rogers, and on the rare occasion his quiet companion who Tony would maturely avoid speaking with. Loki would then often avoid a lunch or dinner and spend his free time in the workshop, challenging Tony’s wit and offering aid when he felt intrigued.  
Peter was a ripple in his tailored timetable of boredom, occasionally broken through coyly annoying Tony. The teenager would sweep through the tower erratically, an unpredictable presence, firing questions and forcing equally laborious meals upon Loki, of which the latter would be politely discarded of.

‘I’m not hungry,’ Loki waved Peter to join him. ‘If you’re not too tired from your homework, I suggest we spar…’.

Peter rose to the challenge as anticipated, with an enthusiastic glint and barely concealed excitement. Tony had fiercely kept the two from rough-housing for the last ten months; refusing to give any reasoning to Peter as to why.

Loki was curious to see how far he could push his current body however; Peter on the other hand was just excited that an adult was finally willing to go hand to hand with him.  
Tony outright refused each time Peter begged, knowing full well that he was no match for the teenagers enhanced strength without his suit.  
Steve had also vehemently refused Peter, warning him that although he believed Spiderman stronger than himself, he didn’t want to accidentally harm Peter. He had also sworn Peter to not ask Bucky, or Loki in turn, come Hell or high water.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Peter hit the mat with a heavy thud, his body momentarily too stunned to breathe. He rolled from the blow of the wooden spear, tumbling into a crouch. He watched Loki pace, his long legs masked in the rolls of Thor’s jogging bottoms; even with his slighter frame presenting the illusion of fragility, Peter could feel Loki’s guarded strength.  
With his innate magical abilities sealed, Loki had fallen into familiar stances of attack, before quickly readjusting himself to apply his physical self.

Loki flicked the spear upwards, scratching the blunted weapon along the floor. Peter leapt away from the wide arc, but Loki went wide and countered the escape. Heavy hands hoisted Peter from his feet and his fingers scratched desperately against Loki’s own, his brown eyes fearful.

‘When dodging, or fleeing,’ Loki stated, loosening his grip on JARVIS’s request. ‘Do not give your opponent an opportunity of attack’.

‘Exploit their w-weaknesses,’ Peter mirrored, slamming his palms heavily against the outstretched arm. Loki recoiled instantly. Peter took the window, adapted a move Natasha had happily shown him, and curled his legs around the appendage. Before Loki could find his footing, Peter dropped his legs and flipped Loki over his shoulder with ease.

The staff clattered across the reinforced flooring. Loki wheezed, pain lacing both his left arm and back; he mentally stored the observations he’d gathered thus far. Physically Spiderman would prove a challenge, his intelligence and never-ending strength an obstacle. Loki clutched his bruised left arm, finding the small bumps beneath the fabric.

‘How did you know?’ he rasped, sitting up slowly.

Peter looked conflicted. He knew Loki was ambidextrous, favouring his right side usually. However he was too sharp and aware not to notice subtle changes in the hands Loki favoured across the weeks, eyeing the small tell-tale signs that plagued a number of his classmates and the odd adult here and there.

‘You’re using your left side more today,’ Peter replied hollowly. _It means you hurt your right side too much to rely on_ he finished too himself. ‘We shouldn’t have sparred. It was stupid. Got too excited…’.

‘No’ breathed Loki getting to his feet smoothly. There was silence for a long time. ‘I wanted to gauge your strength, and you have proven a formidable opponent. I’m sure your intelligence will rival Stark in the future, if not soon.’ Peter took a step back, not wanting to cry. ‘I shall have to work hard to keep on your good side’.

‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me’.

‘If you had helped me up, however. I would have taken the chance to stab you in battle,’ Loki stated matter of fact. Ignoring the teenager’s sentimentality, he readjusted the sleeves of his jumper and smiled wildly at the similarly eerie figure lurking in the doorway to the gym.

Bucky Barnes watched Loki with dead eyes.

‘Does the solider wish to spar?’ Loki teased.

‘Pete, Steve needs you,’ Bucky deadpanned. Peter moved immediately, shooting Loki an apologetic smile and all but fleeing from him. Loki would have been amused if it weren’t for the soldier stalking towards him. He knew from fleeting encounters that the man did not share Peter’s naivety nor Steve’s gifted acceptance.

Bucky was a snarling dog, loyal to a select few, and capable of putting Loki in his place if needs be; without his unbridled seiðr he knew he could only submit and wait for Steve to pull the leash.

‘If you want to let off steam,’ Bucky growled, ‘piss me off instead’. The men stood a hand width apart.

Loki bristled at the fractured reflection. ‘I meant him no harm. Besides, we both know he is physically more capable than I am now. So, is there a problem, Barnes?’.

‘It’s Tony’s good side you need to stay on,’ Bucky warned. ‘If you want to hurt, don’t drag the kid into it…’. Loki narrowed his eyes. ‘Spar Steve or myself. But you have to eat before and after’.

‘We have barely shared two words. It would be unwise to assume you can suddenly concoct a credible ploy to dispose of me’.

Bucky smirked with a shake of his head. ‘You’ve been here long enough for even me to see you’re getting bored. And when someone like you is bored, it’s self-destructive’. Loki schooled his face. ‘We all appreciate Peter’s company. He’s got a big heart, he wants to befriend you. Let him distract you, let him show you that humans can be good. But you can’t spar with him because you have no filter. Hurt yourself but don’t hurt Peter’.

‘I have yet to harm him. Its been made clear that I also have no desire to. Your point is moot’.

‘Ever since your last big fight with Thor you’re not eating properly. You’re angry and bored. I won’t feel guilty about putting you on your arse, but Pete will. I’m offering you a better outlet, Loki. You'll also be more receptive to Peter wanting to eat dinner with you- cause you'll need the calories. It's a win win’.

Loki stiffened, accepting that the soldier was more attune to the goings on around the tower than he had given him credit for.  

‘Why now?’

‘Two way street,’ Barnes shrugged, crossing his uneven arms. ‘Anyway I’m sure Tony would prefer either of us walking around with a black eye than the kid. So, you ready to be put on your arse?’.

Loki twirled his tongue around an incisor, his interest well and truly piqued.

‘And I must dine with you after this?’

Bucky’s eyes darkened. ‘It’s a date’.


End file.
